


Hug It Out

by Anika_Ann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (aka my favourite Natasha), F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I Had To, I Just Love That Tag TBH, Like 5 Minutes of Drama because Who Needs Action, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Meet-Cute, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, free hugs, one of those anyway, steve rogers is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: Steve Rogers is a man out of time and he knows that. After all, he learns something new about this century – hell, thismillennium– each day. But just when he thinks nothing can really surprise him anymore, there’s a woman to prove him wrong.To be fair, it’s not every day he goes for his usual run and meets a person willing to hug everyone who asks for it.Set somewhere in between CA:Winter Solider – without the mess.





	1. Fancy a hug?

**Author's Note:**

> Free Hugs. Because fluffy meet-cutes and heroic Steve Rogers just never get old. At least in my head, where the ideas are popping out. Damn my brain, you’re supposed to be working on seminar papers and The Devil. Well. Eh. I blame hearing Waiting for Superman on the radio.
> 
>  _For all the amazing people supporting my writing._  
>  Mainly for those who put up with my messy brain and read whatever comes out even when waiting for something else. You’re appreciated. You’re loved. I’m sending a virtual hug; if you come to Pilsen or Prague, I’ll even give you an actual one, for free.
> 
> P.S. - The start is a bit descriptive. Sorry? Enjoy ;)

Ever since Steve Rogers came out of the ice, the world wouldn’t stop surprising him. The era he had been born in, he had lived in, pre-war and war, it surely was strange. Hell, he was a living evidence of just how crazy those times were.

But this century, this millennium…. don’t even get him started.

The flashing billboards everywhere. The music. The clothing – women’s especially; seriously, he was just a guy, he liked to look as any other male individual, but what they wore sometimes, that was clearly indecent. And the technology – Steve had thought that the war had made the progress faster, but the devices that existed now, they were simply unreal.

To not only be a negative grandpa (thanks, Stark), he could admit that he enjoyed some perks of modern times – food was way better, Internet offered a faster way to search for information than giant libraries (though it was not always reliable, but whatever ever was), talking via screen seemed to bring people from all around the world closer; as much as it was putting an unexplainable distance between them.

Long story short, the time Steve lived in now, it never ceased to amaze him, always offering something new.

And new was good. But as a military man, he liked a routine too. It was how he had met Sam, who had become a great friend to him. Mainly though, it was how Steve found his peace – in his morning run. Or an afternoon run. Or an evening run. Running at any time, to be honest, as long as it allowed him to clear his head and explore this century rather unnoticed.

On his run, he was just a regular guy, one of many people trying to live at least a bit healthy, not suspicious when looking around and observing the world, quietly learning.

He had glimpsed a young couple, clearly on a date, sitting close together on a bench, each staring in their own smartphone. He had met families enjoying a picnic. He had seen homeless people too, begging for at least a penny. He had encountered an elderly woman, walking her dog, the animal having an aura of being her only joy in her age. And many, many more.

Gradually, what he eyed during his routine became familiar. Whatever he encountered, it stopped being new and shocking.

Most of the times anyway.

The young woman’s t-shirt rather shone in the park. It was a late April day, spring in all its glory – complete with its unpredictable weather, causing Steve to move his run to the afternoon due to the morning rain – and people clearly took advantage of the warm sunrays breaking through the clouds. Nothing unusual about that.

But that woman.

She was rather lean, not the skin and bone type, but a healthy figure, hinting she didn’t get an imaginary skin rush when she as much as walked around a pizza place.  She wore simple skinny jeans – at least Steve believed that was the term these days –, a pair of dark blue sneakers and a strikingly bright blue t-shirt. For some reason, she caught his eye before he could even get a proper look at her face.

It was the damn t-shirt calling out for his gaze like a magnet.

Its back, to be precise; it was the sign on it, which made him curious.

More so when only few moments later, he saw a figure approach the girl hesitantly, only to be rewarded with an inviting smile and after few words exchanged, the blue shirt woman… hugged the other one.

Steve couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued. He decided to alternate his route to investigate the strange occurrence. After all, he had time. And when it came to running… that he could do all day.

\---

Before going to college to study the field you had always wanted to, you knew that they were only two possibilities; either you would adore it or hate it. If you would have hated it, you would be genuinely and truly screwed, because psychology was something that fascinated you from your early years, probably earlier than any of your family members liked.

Luckily for you _(and them)_ , that wasn’t the case. You loved studying human mind, the way it worked, figuring out the story behind someone’s behaviour, guessing their motivations… and with a one hell of a luck, your enthusiasm had been noticed by one of your professors, who managed to find you a gig on top of that.

After reading you seminar paper in sociology, he had asked you whether you would be interested in publishing an article every now and then, based on social experiments. While sociology wasn’t your main interest and the way it would work bordered with journalism on occasions, you said yes.

And now here you were, testing once again what people would do _if_ … there was a person offering free hugs. It was an experiment of your own choice; the concept dating back to 2004 (which may seem like an ancient history to some people) was simply fascinating and heart-warming.

Plus, knowing you just might put a smile on someone’s face and offer comfort was igniting something in you, a feeling of _right_ pulsing in your veins.

There was no questioning whether you wanted to try. So you did.

You had been hanging out in West Potomac Park for about two hours now. The originally rainy day had turned into a pleasantly warm one, luring people out.

So far, 73 people had approached you to get a hug –some of them more reluctant than the others. You noticed the phenomena of the tourists being way more enthusiastic about it, but that was understandable – they were on their holiday and possibly wanted to enjoy their stay with everything that was offered. Also, people tended to come in waves – after ten minutes of nothing, individuals or groups eying you hesitantly, there was found one who was willing to step out from the crowd and start a madness. You loved it.

On occasion though, an individual just went for it and no one followed. Like with this woman. No one followed her example, at least not right away.

You noticed the blond man mostly because of his large frame and absolute inability to be subtle about his staring.

He was a big fella, handsome too, but you knew that neither of those things necessarily meant he had to be confident; judging by the distance he kept and observed you from, you actually wondered if he was shy or a creep.  It took him several minutes to work up the courage and that was only after the fourth time you caught him watching you.

His outfit was screaming _runner_ , yet he walked to you in slow pace, hesitant. You gave him a tiny encouraging smile. (Because who were you kidding, you wouldn’t mind hugging _him._ A little reward for the altruistic hugger?)

“I’m sorry,” he started in pleasantly low voice, gulping before he continued. “I just… I couldn’t help but notice… what exactly is happening here?”

You eyed him curiously, surprised by his genuine confusion. Was he being serious? He definitely did seem to wonder what was going on. Was it possible he had never heard of this initiative? He wouldn’t be the first one, neither would be the last, you guessed.

The look on his face was an answer on its own, to be honest.

“Well,” you hummed, rudely turning your back to him, showing off the sign on the t-shirt and pointing at it before facing him again. “It’s exactly what it says on the tin. I’m giving away free hugs to anyone who wants.”

He opened and closed him mouth, no sound coming out. It looked kinda funny, but also cute. Plus, laughing at him wouldn’t be nice, so you tried your best to wait for him to figure out a response to that.

“I… can see that, but… why?”

The blond appeared perplexed as if such an act was something alien-like, making absolutely no sense. Though you had a feeling that he approved of that behaviour at least, despite not understanding what possessed you to do it.

“To spread the joy?” you suggested, half teasing, half unsure. He tilted his head, still perfectly confused (in a very puppy-like manner, read _utterly adorable),_ but intrigued. “Because… everyone just needs a hug sometimes?”

He considered your words for a moment before a smile appeared on his lips.

“Yeah… I—I guess. I know the feeling. It’s a really nice thought.”

Huh. He truly was a tabula rasa when it came to Free Hugs. You felt honoured to introduce him to it.

Also, you couldn’t but notice the softening of his voice when he said he knew the feeling. A flicker of something in his baby blues made your heart clench. He did know, didn’t he?

“It’s not my idea originally… Juan Mann was the first one to do it. Anyway… uhm… would you like one?” you asked, half on autopilot, half because you actually _wanted to_ hug him, hoping whatever was bothering him would go away for a moment at least.

“Oh—uhm, I mean… okay? I never really… it’s been a while,” he admitted slowly, gulping.

A while since he had been hugged? Maaan, now you wanted to hug him and hold him for eternity.

If he would be comfortable with that, of course. Not everyone was as touchy-feely as you were, after all. Some people found it creepy.

Then again, maybe he was a hugger and missed it as badly as you would have. Also, not being hugged didn’t necessarily mean not hugging anyone for a while, only not receiving the affection back. Which would be even sadder; hugs _needed_ to be reciprocated.

“We don’t have to,” you whispered, lowering your gaze so you wouldn’t make him uncomfortable by staring too much thus hinting having any kind of expectation of him.

It was just an offer – and neither accepting nor refusing was wrong.

“No, I—yeah, I could use a hug, I guess. No harm in trying, right?”

You nodded, charming a smile, suddenly shy. _“No harm in trying,”_ you muttered, taking the first step, but letting him raise his arms to initiate the real thing so he could back out in the last moment if he wanted.

He didn’t.

It was a bit awkward at first, as if he wasn’t sure what to do, but then something clicked. Your thinner arms wrapped around his torso, while one of his circled you waist easily, the other embracing your shoulders.

He held you carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking you – or not remembering what hugging was supposed to feel like, which you found awfully sad –, so you added a bit of pressure to let him know it was okay to actually hold you. His grip tightened a fraction, his chin lightly resting against your temple, nearly on the top of your head.

His chest was freaking huge and honestly a bit sweaty, but nothing too bad; almost as if he hadn’t been running before. He was just… warm. Pleasantly so. So much you almost forgot to let go. You allowed yourself to inconspicuously caress his back, only a bit, but his response was overwhelming. He melted into your frame, squeezing in return – it felt like a thank you, warming you from inside.

When you started letting go, he immediately picked up on it, releasing you too. He was smiling gently, holding your gaze nearly hypnotically. Neither of you said a word, but you could feel _something_ radiating from him, so many unspoken words…

“Excuse me?” a boy’s voice sounded on your low right and you automatically looked that way, breaking the spell. Trusting hopeful chocolate eyes of a tiny person – the boy could be barely six years old – were watching you and you scanned the park for the person responsible for him. You found a woman about your age running your way. “Can I get a hug too, miss?”

You smiled at the boy, crouching so you were his height.

“Depends, mister. Who’s the girl right there?”

“That’s Maya. She’s my babysitter,” he hummed, pouting. “She’s always so slow.”

Eying the girl’s shoes, you couldn’t really blame her. The heels were at least three inches high. Not exactly a suitable shoes for when looking after a kid.

“Well, if Maya allows it, then you can.”

The boy huffed, but waited for the girl to catch up with him.

“Christopher!”

While the scolding happened, you glanced at the stranger you had hugged. He had an unreadable expression on his face, watching you and the kid, but it seemed somewhat soft. He gave you a tiny wave and you returned it, quite sorry he was leaving. He seemed like a nice guy. You wouldn’t mind to chat with him for a while longer. Or hug him for a while longer.

_Shut up, creep._

“So, _Christopher._ Did you and Maya clear it up? Are we hugging?” you addressed the boy quietly, earning a grin and an eager nod. You checked with the babysitter once more and only then spread your arms.

Christopher fell into them so enthusiastically you almost fell backwards and landed on your ass.

You laughed it off, feeling as much joy bursting in your chest as you hoped you were bringing to the kid by such a simple thing like a hug.

It was a reward on its own.

 

 


	2. Fancy a rescue?

Another half an hour passed and the number of the people you had hugged climbed to 90. You were really freaking satisfied with yourself. Because majority of them had left you smiling – and if they had already been happy before hugging you, they had just left shining a bit more. You felt almost sorry for having only thirty minutes left according to your plan. You thought about coming back some other day with no agenda besides giving joy to both other people and you.

“Well, _helloooo,”_ sounded behind you, the greeting strangely stretched, allowing to the deep baritone to resonate in your bones.

Your heart jumped at the tone the man spoke with; there was simply something _not_ right about it, something that made your hair stand on its ends. Yet, you swallowed against the lump suddenly formed in your throat, reminding yourself of your mission here – you were here to spread joy to everyone, so you just had to bite the bullet.

Plus, ignoring people clearly talking to you, that would be just rude.

You spun on you heels with a smile plastered on your face. Your gaze was met with a man, barely few inches taller than you, jeans and a hoodie suitable for a simple walk in a park. Just your average Joe Schmoe really. You relaxed a little, even though his overcasual stance did not rub you in the right way.

“Hello,” you replied politely.

His eyes slid from your face, scanning your whole form, and he licked his lips before returning to look into your eyes. Your heart started racing.

Just ogling. That’s fine. _Ogle all you want, you testosterone-driven—… man._

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Can I help you?”

One corner of his lips rose in a lopsided smile; you might even find his face handsome then if it wasn’t for the slimy undertone in his grin.

“Sure can, sweet-cheeks. Could use a hug.”

 _Aaaalright, let’s get this over with_. He most definitely wasn’t the first person today whom you weren’t delighted to hug. You had experienced an accidental brush of a hand against you bottom too. The rest of the hugs just always seemed to make up for the unpleasant experience and they would have to do so again.

“Alright. Uhm, let’s hug then,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. On the inside, you were squirming. You hoped it didn’t show too much.

His arms went around your waist, one of them sliding up and the other dangerously low. _And here it came…_ You breathed in to calm yourself, closing your eyes.

 _Just one hug_. _One butt squeeze. You can live through that. Just remember the class with professor Hilton, you had been coming to his lessons despite the man deciding to torture you all with boredom and you managed a whole semester. You can handle this._

All of those calming techniques flied out of the window when your nose had been assaulted with the odour of alcohol, accompanied by another squeeze of your bottom, the upper arm pulling you closer.

You wanted to stop. The hug was lasting for too long anyway, right? It was alright to end it. Like _right now._

You let go of him, manoeuvring yourself off his embrace. He tried to tighten his grip, but with the help of all angels watching over you, you somehow slipped out and wisely took a step back before he could pull you back in.

You shot him a quick fake smile. “There you go. A hug. Works wonders, huh?” you babbled out awkwardly, trying to swallow the panic growing in your chest.

The man’s smile widened a bit, a glint of something appearing in his eyes.

“You betcha’, darling. We could try again. For longer. Somewhere else, huh?” he suggested with a raise of his eyebrow, causing your smile to freeze.

Oh. _Shit. You sure don’t go beat around the bush._

“S-sorry. I still have few… hours to be here.”

“Well, I don’t mind people watching…”

With those words, he stepped towards you, making you back off immediately, stumbling over your own feet. You were lucky not to land on your ass.

You breathed in and out shakily, quickly looking around. Why was no one watching _now?_ People had been staring all fucking day!

“I- I do, so…” you stuttered, panic growing into enormous measures in your belly, twisting your insides. You were glad you were wearing sneakers, because damn, you felt like you would need to run. Soon. “S-so I’m gonna have to—to ask you to leave, sir.”

He clicked his tongue. “We can leave the ‘sir’ for later, darling. It’s just Josh for now.”

Bile rose to your mouth and your head started spinning a bit. You heard your pulse in your temples, your heart going crazy. Yep, this was _not_ good.

Why did he keep walking towards you? Why couldn’t he just… leave?

“You alright, madam?” asked a voice on your left and you nearly jumped out of your skin, your hand shooting up to your chest to keep your rapidly beating heart in your ribcage.

You got a glimpse of a taller figure, impressive shoulders and blond hair, before your other companion demanded your attention. _And_ the blond’s.

“Hey, I’m talking to her, fuck off-“

With a gulp, you watched the man by your side take a step forward, closer to… Josh? His jaw was set tight, his cerulean eyes giving the other man a stern look.

“Then you let her speak for herself,” he emphasized the word ‘speak’, a frowning line appearing between his eyebrows. His head beckoned to you inconspicuously. “Madam?”

 _Madam?_ Was he really calling you- _No, nope relevant right now._

“Uhm… I—I asked you to leave,” you whispered weakly, which earned the smaller man a challenging raised brow from the blond.

“And I wanna know what kind of a frigging _free hugs_ chick you are when you wouldn’t put out, sweet-cheeks.”

You felt tears of disgust in your eyes, the lump in your throat only growing bigger as he reached for you again.

He never got to touch you though – in a lightning speed, a big hand caught his wrist in a steel grip.

“The lady asked you to leave,” the blond man nearly growled at your side, causing you to jump again, your heart skipping a beat.

 _Jeez, talk about being intense_.

A shadow of pain crossed the Josh’ (Jordan’s? Jason’s? J-whatever…) face as your potential rescuer wouldn’t let go.

“Fuck, man, let go-“

“I will if you leave her alone and get lost.”

A flash of anger glistened in the intrusive guy’s eyes, a mean spark of rage and resistance, but then his teeth clang together, a small whimper escaping his lips.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why when you saw the muscles of the larger man dance on his forearm – huge forearm, by the way.

“Man, just find your own chick to f-“

J-whatever never got to finish his sentence – with wide eyes, you watched you saviour move his hand in an indescribably way, broad shoulders blocked your view and the next thing you saw was a body being flipped and then pinned to the ground face down.

 _“Oh my god!”_ you shrieked, stumbling back on instinct. Your hand shoot up to your mouth as the blonde’s knee dug into J’s back.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving! Let go, you asshole!!” the guy yelped as loud as he could with his head on the pavement and – as you guessed – his ribcage terribly squeezed.

“Get lost before I lose my nerve,” the blond man hissed before releasing him.

While he stood up and straightened, J-whatever scrambled to his feet and without as much as a glance over his shoulder, sprinted away. A righteous glare of fury followed him.

And you were left alone with a guy to whom you should be – and were too – grateful. Stuck standing here with really big dude. Who could apparently flip people and pin them to the ground without breaking a sweat. And had shown up at your side about half an hour after your first encounter.

Why? Was he… watching you?

You gulped. The J-guy was a jerk and was making you _very_ uncomfortable, but if this guy went down at you, you would stand no chance. You resisted the urge to step back from him. The paranoia might have been getting the best of you at the moment, but you didn’t give a shit.

_Survival instincts, dude._

Your feet shuffled indecisively and the blond noticed, turning his stern face towards you. A glint of something scary in his eyes disappeared when he noticed your probably pathetic expression and he quickly distanced himself from you as if he understood your fear.

“I’m sorry for that. Are you okay? I’m… I’m not gonna hurt you. He just--- he really pushed a button,” he offered reluctantly, offering a tiny innocent smile. You weren’t entirely convinced, your alarm bells still set off. He could snap you in half easily, cute smile or not. “I’ll leave.  No harm done.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, walking backwards with a guilty frown on his handsome face. You weren’t a girl to trust a pretty face, you knew better than that.

But you did read facial expressions. You understood how much could be said only with one’s eyes.

And this stranger’s eyes meant no harm to you, neither did he expect a reward for his rather heroic act. No, this was a man who only wanted to help and if a frightened girl sending him away was all he was about to get, he would accept it.

Reading his face and remembering your earlier interaction, genuine and sweet, you felt your tense shoulders relax. The only threat he was posing to you was to your heart, which seemed to speed up just remembering his cute wave of goodbye, this time for a completely different reason than fear.

He was about to turn around and walk away when you sprang after him.

“Wait!”

He let his hands fall, eyeing you, while patiently waiting as you told him so.

You licked your lips nervously as you suddenly noticed just how many pairs of eyes were watching your little exchange ending with the hero nearly walking away because of your fear. _Great, you jerks, **now** you’re watching, huh?_

You breathed in and out slowly, hoping your heart would slow down.

“I’m sorry. I’m not—it’s not that I’m not grateful, I really _really_ am.  I just…”

“No, I get it-“

“-you’re really huge and look like you could just snap me in half-“

“-I could be another— _what?”_ he blurted out, his cheeks catching a hint of red as if your claim caused him to _blush._ Which was so endearing it almost made you forgot what you just let slip.

_Damn you, brain-to-mouth filter._

You chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. _Alright, let’s try this again._

“Wow, I’m terrible at this. What I’m trying to say is: thank you and I’m sorry for my rambling and my inappropriate behaviour… sir,” you followed his suit of ‘ladies’ and ‘madams’ which caused the corners of his lips twitch. Not unkindly, though.

“Like I said: I get it. I know that what I did could have been… intimidating and looked like an unnecessary demonstration of power. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Steve.”

He offered his huge hand to shake and you accepted it immediately, shyly offering your name in return. How had you not introduced the first time around?

The gentleness of his grip surprised you – or maybe it didn’t. The longer you were interacting with him, the more you understood that the violence you had witnessed had only been for the benefit of your safety. _Steve_ wasn’t a man seeking violence in everyday life – he was seeing an opportunity to protect.

With his body built, it wouldn’t surprise you if he was with some sort of law enforcement. Army even. Yet, you didn’t think he joined to cover for his violent tendencies as your psychology major had taught you was happening at times.

Jeez, you needed to stop analysing people. And praising him mentally, because at this rate, you might develop a crush on him. Which… yeah, would be ridiculously easy, who were you kidding.

“Can I buy you a coffee as an apology slash thank you, Steve?” fell from your mouth as you let go of his hand, your inner voice scolding you immediately.

_Really? Supporting developing the slowly growing crush by inviting him for a cup? Seriously, woman?!_

Steve’s face lit up with pleasantly surprised smile, intensified with several confused blinks.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that-“

“I really feel like I should-“

“I didn’t do that to-“

“I don’t think you would. And I didn’t mean it like I _should_ invite you based on some… social code or whatever,” you clarified, stopping the verbal tennis match. It shut him up, allowing you to speak. Damn him, gentleman. _Stop being so crushable!_ “I would _like_ to. If that would be alright with you, Steve.”

“Don’t you need to… stay here and give more hugs?” he asked sheepishly, looking around.

Following his suit, you checked for any onlookers. With relief, you noticed people were losing interest in the peculiar show you were offering.

You waved it off, trying to supress the feeling of panic at the idea of another J-whatever arriving – or the man himself coming back – if you stayed here.

“I think I gave enough.”

He nodded in understanding, subtly scanning the area around you once more – as if he was looking for any potential Js aka danger. _Yep, definitely law enforcement._

“Shall we?” You beckoned your head in the direction of your favourite café, rewarded by another nod as Steve easily fell into step with you. “I think I could use a good coffee as well.”

“I think you deserve it,” he hummed and you glanced up at his face. His smile grew a bit now, still sweet. An adorable twinkle appeared in his eyes when you casted a small smile right back at him.

He was so freaking handsome you couldn’t believe it and for a moment you let your mind wander. Was it the fact he had helped you what was making him so beautiful? Girls were often raised to believe in knights in shining armour (and oh, did he look like Prince Charming) to save them from trouble, automatically falling in love with them after. Was this the case now? Did you only like him because of that?

No, that couldn’t be, right?  You knew better than that. Because, _psychology_ _major_. Talk about professional deformation.

“So… I peg you for an Americano type of guy. Am I wrong?” you threw out to the open to start up a conversation.

He snorted a laugh that should be unattractive, and it probably was, but only made your smile widen. Ha! He was a I-snort-when-you-make-me-laugh-unexpectedly kind of person!  _Now_ you were falling hard.

“Yeah. _Americano_ all the way. What gave it away?”

For some reason, you sensed an inside joke in that sentence. Instead of being bothered by the lack of sharing, you shrugged it off and answered his question.

“Nothing. I can just tell. It’s my superpower.”

For a short moment, he seemed to hesitate and consider whether you were only joking. A few years ago, you would have laughed at it, but with aliens falling from the sky in New York and a bunch of actually superpowered heroes fighting them off, you couldn’t blame him for the uncertainty.

When he saw you biting your lip so the chuckle wouldn’t escape you, he relaxed, grinning on his own.

“What a cool superpower to have…” he hummed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats ad followed you to the salvation in a form of the sacred beverage.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the heroic rescue... Oh Stevie... :D


	3. Fancy a coffee?

You didn’t even make it to the café and you were already glad you didn’t chase Steve away; the few minutes with him convinced you he was a nice guy.

And the longer he kept you company, the more sure you were.

He paid for the coffee despite you inviting him. He found you a seat in the back, pulling out a chair for you, effectively stopping your heart. He let you ramble about your love – read _psychology_ – with a gentle smile, only interjecting here and there.

You soon understood he was an old fashioned guy in more than one sense. Apart from the aura of a gentleman, he liked old-school music, was a bit into art (sheepishly admitting he sometimes draw too), complained about too much technology used these days and had a bit judgemental look when a pair of teenagers climbed each other like trees right in the café. It was hilarious and refreshing – you didn’t meet many people like that these days.

What more, despite being an old soul, he showed no several sign of toxic masculinity. He was not thinking female were less human being, meant to stay at home and raise kids, fulfilling their role only that way; that was the conclusion you had come to  when he clearly been happy about your fascination in your field and future work.

On top of that, he was funny. He seemed to have an endless stash of stories of his friends playing prank wars and… an infinite stash of compliments; subtle and shy, but compliments nevertheless. Also, you weren’t wrong – he told you he worked in security, though his gaze fell onto the table for the first time, not looking into your eyes and while you didn’t think he lied, you had a feeling it was not a full story. You didn’t push.

An hour in – or was is two? Three? – you realized you were crushing. _Hard_. And probably wore a stupid schoolgirl smile, but honestly you didn’t even care anymore.

Your staring at him while he talked about Johny Cash’s music was interrupted by a ringtone – his, not yours. He stopped in the middle of a sentence with an apologetic smile and pulled out his phone. His relaxed features were immediately ruined by a frown.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I really need to take this. Hey Natasha-“

You just nodded in understanding when he accepted the call. You guessed work; whoever exactly Natasha was and whatever she was saying, it made him sigh.

”Okay. You pick me up? I’m in a café— … of course you know that… that’s a rather long story… I’m… having a coffee? … Why would you ask that? Can’t a guy get a coffee alone?” Blood flushed into his cheeks and you bit your lip, looking away with a grin. You weren’t bothered by the lie – he was so flustered you couldn’t but actually find it hilarious. “ _Natasha,_ please, just- I’ll see you outside in five, alright?”

“Try again, big boy.”

You yelped silently, jumping in your seat as a gorgeous redhead appeared behind his shoulder, making his snap his head her direction.

“Hey, Rogers,” she greeted him with a shark-like smile, amused by his shock.

“Romanov! What-“

She didn’t pay him any attention though; her gaze shifted to you, searching and calculating. It made you shiver and at that, the woman’s features softened a bit, a glimmer of mischief on her face.

“So that’s what you’re doing when telling us you’re going for a run? Having coffee dates?”

Despite the nosy question, the corners of your lips twitched – she was clearly teasing him and judging by their body language, they were nothing but friends, which… shouldn’t make you feel at ease again, because you had no right to be _jealous_ or whatever, what _the hell_ , but… it kinda did.

Plus, Steve seemed very uncomfortable, a blush creeping up his neck and the hint of red giving him a look so adorable for such a huge man it was just ridiculous. And cute. Really freaking cute. About as much as his stutter.

“I—I’m not- that’s not-“

“I literally caught you red-handed, Rogers. What would the American citizens think, seeing you lying like that? Tsk-tsk…” she mocked him, the red on his skin turning a shade darker; also, he seemed a bit alarmed, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

It plucked up your curiosity. It reminded you of when you mentioned the Americano. Was this Natasha woman the one coming up with it? You wondered what that was about. Maybe he was like a stereotypical American? _Americano,_ perhaps apple pie, baseball and American flag hanging in his apartment? The picture made you giggle mentally.

A hand appeared in front of you and you blinked, realizing you zoned out. You followed the line of the jacket, your gaze stopping at the redhead’s face. Her eyebrow was slightly elevated in a challenge and you noticed Steve was massaging the bridge of his nose as if he was tired.

“I’m Natasha. It’s nice to meet you.”

You reluctantly accepted her hand, for some reason expecting some kind of a trick. She seemed like a tricky person. Good in their core, but sneaky.

As you introduced yourself as well, you thought about why did her hold feel firmer than Steve’s – perhaps she wasn’t afraid of breaking you. To be fair, there was an air around her, something telling you she could break you as easily as Steve. It was something in her stance, maybe? Or the situation, hinting you they worked together and since you had assumed Steve was with police, or rather military--

“Well, I’m glad you two met, now… I’m sorry I have to cut this meeting short, but we should go,” Steve babbled out hastily, laying down a twenty on the table while stumbling to his feet.

“Well-“

“I had a great time,” he reassured you with a quick sweet smile, “thank you for the coffee.”

You opened your mouth to note that he had left money for it – _despite paying earlier when getting it –_ , but Steve already had a hand on Natasha’s shoulder, pulling her away.

“Wait, I want a hug!” she complained under her breath, yet loudly enough for you to hear.

You blinked, stunned, but rose to your feet to fulfil what your t-shirt read. If Natasha wanted a hug for whatever reason, she deserved one for free.

“Natasha-“ Steve growled, not unlike when he was getting rid of J-whatever.

“Hush,” she hissed over her shoulder, embracing you with one of her hands dangerously low.

You felt something hard being slipped behind your jeans. She squeezed you tighter at that, so you kept your mouth shut, sensing it was safer not to protest. Plus, your curiosity stopped you – you kinda wanted to know what that was about.

When she let go of you, she gave you a tiny wink, the same mischief in her eyes as before.

“Thanks,” she smiled briefly. “Really needed that.”

Steve shot her a very weird look, scanning you as if he was afraid she cracked your neck or something. Was Natasha not a hugger then?

“You’re welcome.”

The redhead reached for the twenty on the table, handing it to perplexed Steve. “I think this is yours.”

“Right. Now let’s go so we’re not late. Thanks again. See you around!”

He gave you his significant awkward wave, just like when he had been wordlessly saying you goodbye for the first time today and then the strange pair was gone.

You stood here dumbstruck for few more moments and then carefully pulled out the card that had been slipped under the hem of your jeans, curiosity getting the best to you.

You had to read what was written on it three times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Your head snapped up, vainly trying to get a glimpse of the tall broad-shouldered figure or the redhead. You had no such luck.

You checked the card again, your mind racing. What the hell were you supposed to do with that information? What were you gonna do? That was insane! But… was it? It had to be the truth. It made a perfect sense, you had no doubt. You were rather ashamed you hadn’t put the pieces together on your own. To be fair, the chances that would happen had been so low you couldn’t blame your brain for not coming up with this possibility.

The question was… what now? What was your next move? Natasha sure gave you an option, but were you willing to take her upon that offer? You weren’t certain it was a smart thing to do. Actually, you thought than it wasn’t smart at all.

Then again… she gave you the card for a reason. She trusted you. Why? She had only met you. Why would she trust you? Why would she tell you these things?

No, seriously, _why?_ God, such a mess, just because of a free hugs campaign…

You suddenly felt like _you_ needed a free hug. Nice, warm, comforting and firm embrace, preferably delivered by a large man who would hide you from the world and tell you everything was okay and you should roll with whatever this was. Just a really, really nice hug.

  _We all have those moments, right?_

  ---

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing it. You stood in front of the Y.S.O.P Enterprise , fancy tall skyscraper, all glass and steel building belonging to the computer security company that claimed that Your Security was Their (Our) Priority, and you were biting your lip, still debating yourself whether you should come in.

A laugh escaped you when you realized how ironic the name of the company was. You weren’t exactly brought up to speed, but Natasha had confirmed your suspicion about Steve being… _military_. The doodle certainly was enough of a hint. You could put two and two together easily, but that was probably Natasha’s goal. You weren’t sure why, what her motivation was, however you didn’t think too hard about it.

Instead, you took a deep breath and decided that after the several days lasting dilemma and after you had come all this way, you may as well continue.

You walked through the revolving door, soon welcomed by gentle unobtrusive music, respectable woman watching you from behind the reception desk with a professional smile.

“Y.S.O.P Enterprise, how can I help you?”   

Jeez, her smile was so artificial you wondered whether her face just froze that way. Was she a spy too? Because she was playing the role of annoyingly perfect receptionist  simply _perfectly_ (no disrespect towards the receptionists, alright, tough job they had).

“Uhm… yes. I’m… I’m here to see Mr. Rogers?” you stuttered nervously, shifting your weight.

If the woman was surprised, she didn’t let it show.

“Of course. Concerning what matter?”

You gulped. There came your moment. Your line was written on the paper you received from the redhead, apart from other things. _Just don’t mess it up._

_And don’t laugh._

“He borrowed my Walkman. I want it back.”

This time, the woman’s eyes widened, apparently being that shocked. God, you hoped it wasn’t some password that would get you killed on spot. That would be _incredibly_ mean of Natasha.

You held your breath as you were staring at each other for long seconds. Or was it minutes? It felt like minutes. Then, she shook her head with a polite smile.

“Of course. Why don’t you go this way and take the second elevator on the left? Here, the card will provide you excess to anywhere you need. His office is on the nineteenth floor, room 19.18. Have a good day,” she wished you with the fake smile plastered on her face again and you fought a shiver as much as a giggle.

Was that… like another inside joke? The room number? Because unless it was a coincidence, they were taking it too far… poor Steve. You suspected it _was_ an inside  joke; you did your reading, actually finding out that a freaking exhibit in Smithsonian was about to be dedicated to him. So yeah, probably _poor Steve._

You accepted the visitor’s card and made you way following the instructions with a lump growing in your throat. How insane was this? When the door of the elevator closed, you didn’t want to know the answer. Somehow, you felt like it was too late.

When the cabin started moving, you instinctively pressed your palm against the wall to maintain balance.

You were _not_ ready for the motion. Mostly because despite pressing button 19, the elevator started going _down._

Your heart leaped into your stomach and positively stopped beating.

Oh god. _Oh god,_ what had you got yourself into?! Did you trust some crazy terrorists?! Or were you about to get killed by government for knowing who the friendly blond Steve truly was?

Your eyes desperately searched for an exit from the walls that seemed to shrink around you, your breathing picking up.

You couldn’t find an escape route.

You were so fucking _fucked_ . You were gonna die-

The elevator stopped and you suddenly didn’t know whether you should get to the door to run as fast as you could or try to merge with the walls. Before you could make a decision, the door opened.

A wide and seemingly endless corridor illuminated by clinically fluorescent lamps spread in front of you. With your chest still heaving, heartbeat hammering in your ears, you took hesitant step forward. Then another one. You exited the elevator.

Its door immediately closed and the cabin started climbing again.

 _Now_ you were screwed. There was only one way to go – forward. _Always forward._ Well. The corridor was stark, nothing fancy for sure, but when you adjusted your eyes to the bright lights, you realized there were two moving walkways, similar to those placed at airports. Huh. Okay. You definitely felt the same nervousness as if you were about to fly far from home.

“Just like at an airport. No biggie…” you muttered under your breath.

The moment you laid your feet on the walkway, it started moving. You winced.

“Not creepy at all…”

You started walking on autopilot, figuring you might as well get this over with, secretly hoping you weren’t marching right towards your death.

You really hoped you would get to live another day, alright. You were far too young to get murdered – either by terrorists or by secret government organisations or anyone else.

The walk felt like it lasted for hours.

When you finally reached the end of the corridor, finding another elevator, you just rolled with it and stepped right in, hoping that this time, it would actually go up despite not having any number for you to choose from.

It did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for kudos and comments. They keep me warm ♥


	4. Fancy a date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part. This one got a bit out of hand, though I don’t think you’ll mind. The last scenes kinda stretched against my will and I once again got over 10k words in total, but I decided to leave it that way :D Sorry?

As soon as you exited the elevator, you knew that this building was something else.

You found yourself in an enormous, blindingly bright lobby, a gigantic metal sculpture reminding you of an eagle (you supposed, American all the way, after all) in its middle. It was modern, airy, all glass and steel just like at the Y.S.O.P. Enterprise, but this…

The hall was pulsing with life. Tens of people were passing you, seemingly uninterested, but you could feel several gazes at your figure – you very obviously didn’t belong here. There were several people dressed as official workers, but many more were dressed like… like they had just stepped out of an action thriller. _Spies_.

What the hell did you get yourself into? _Seriously_.

"Hey,” a casual female voice from behind you snapped you from your musing. You spun to her immediately, met with a sight of Natasha in… a combat gear? Probably? You were no expert, but she was dressed in black and had a gun holster – _with a gun –_ on each of her thigh, so you guessed that this was her spy uniform or whatever. You gulped despite her lopsided grin; she looked fucking intimidating. “Glad you could make it. Honestly wasn't sure you would."

She held out another visitor’s pass for you and you reluctantly took it, half expecting it to blow up or something.

"Neither was I," you admitted, putting that thing on your neck. Natasha made a face at your confession.

"That's fair. This way.”

The spy made a U-turn and beckoned to you to follow her. With a helpless shrug, you did. It wasn’t like you had an option. You didn’t like the prying gazes on you and… truth to be told, you were actually fine with her handling you like this.

Blunt. To the point. Not barking around though. It was better than a fake smile plastered on her face. She seemed… guarded, yet somehow natural. She was a tough one to read, which intrigued you, you weren’t gonna kid anyone.

You shook your head and quickly fell into step with her before she could disappear. You wouldn’t wanna get lost here. For one, the building (base?) seemed like an enormous labyrinth and for two, there were way too many people with a gun at their hand – prepared to use it and probably quite capable with it. Since Natasha seemed to have respect among them, deflecting the prying eyes… yep, you were perfectly fine with her leading you through.

You stepped with her into yet another elevator, both of you applying a card to the device next to the entrance. The tiny screen lighted up with her name ‘ _Natasha_ _Romanov’_ , and right after that with yours along with the sign ‘ _visitor’._

Your mouth fell open to ask how the fuck was that possible; you were pretty sure you hadn’t tell anyone you last name-

“We’re spies. We know things. Get over it,” she winked at you as the door closed and you just huffed a hysterical laugh, earning an amused smile.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was me who did the background check. Not Steve. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”

At that, you bit your lip, your eyes absently falling on the glassy ceiling of the lobby under you. Because of course the elevator walls were glass too. Probably bulletproof.

_Don’t freak out._

“Yes, I kinda figured that one out,” you murmured, wondering what Steve was gonna do when seeing you.

Did he usually shoot people? You couldn’t quite imagine that despite the crazy ‘flip demonstration’ in the park. You didn’t want to get shot; by him, of all people on top of that.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t do that, invade your privacy unless he thought you were a threat. Not gonna vouch for him, he can be all too righteous ass. But other than that, he's a great guy."

She crossed her arms on her chest, looking out of the window as well.

Despite the crazy situation – what was happening again? –, you chuckled at that, sarcasm creeping into your voice.

"Didn’t sound like vouching for him at all..."

The corner of her lips twitched higher. "He’s still a friend. I’m not gonna blemish him, he can do that on his own. Just… it might not look like it first, but he'll be happy to see you."

You casted a glance at her, thinking about what she said. A knot of nervousness, forgotten for a short moment, returned in full force, attacking your stomach. What if he was going to be mad?

"How… reassuring."

She scoffed. "He likes you. He just tends to overthink things. Don't take it personal if he's cold at first. Try to stick around."

The elevator stopped abruptly, nearly giving you a heart attack. The door slid open so you turned to it, only to see more people entering the elevator, each of them applying a card. You looked away so they wouldn’t want to murder you for seeing their identity; after all, they did have guns on them. _Jesus_.

You just absently checked which floor you were on, making sure it wasn’t your stop.

Only three more floors. You resisted the urge to bite your nails, which was a bad habit you of which you had thought you had successfully got rid of. Apparently, not so much.

You exhaled in relief when you stepped out, an empty hallway opening in front of you and Natasha. She gave you a tiny reassuring smile.

"You know where to go now. Good luck,” she wished you and in quick pace, she walked away along with your confidence. She only said you one more thing over her shoulder. “And when he says he's gonna kill me or something, he's joking, don't worry."

You made your way along the doors, searching for the 19.18 with your heart in your throat. What were you even doing here? If Steve wanted to contact you, he would have, right? Were you being a creep? A stalker? One of those terrible fans who were-- yeah, no, you were no fan of his public persona per se, you genuinely _liked_ the guy who saved your ass and you had coffee with, it wasn’t that-

You almost passed the right office without noticing with how lost in your thoughts you were. You took an abrupt stop, your heart threatening to jump out of your ribcage. When you eyed the door number, a little plaque with _Steven G.Rogers_ on it, you felt like you were gonna puke.

This was it. This was how you were gonna blow it up. Oh _shit._

 _Come on, woman up!_ you heard Natasha’s voice in your head and you actually had to look around to make sure she wasn’t by your side with how real it sounded.

You were going insane.

You quickly knocked on the door before you could change your mind.

"Come in, Natasha," a voice called out and you closed your eyes, letting the sound wash over you. He sounded just like you remembered – except maybe more professional. Less relaxed.

_Well, just wait until you walk in. You’ll see about professional when you get escorted out. Or shot. Or knocked out by the famous shield._

You didn’t even want to think about how he knew/thought it was his redhead friend. You really didn’t.

 _Anyway._ With a last self-encouraging inhale, you took the handle and opened the door.

Your heart positively skipped a beat.

He sat here, not even looking up from the papers he was working on, deep wrinkle of concentration between his eyebrows. You gulped, closing the door soundlessly.

Could he hear your heart racing? You hoped not. That would make things even more awkward.

“What did you n-“ he started, but the words died in his throat when his gaze finally rose and was met with someone whom he probably wouldn’t have expected, not even in his wildest dreams. Nightmares perhaps?

"Uhm... not Natasha," you stated the obvious, fiddling with your fingers.

Steve rose from his chair, staring at you silently, shock written all over his face. He seemed too stunned to speak.

"H-hi?" you tried out, not gaining any reaction so far.

You were met with another silence. This was getting even more awkward than you had thought it would. _Fuck_.

Just as you were taking a breath in to apologise for showing up and to offer you could walk yourself out, he finally opened his mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

 _Ouch._ _That **tone**._

He sounded angry. You honestly wanted to spin on your heels and _run_. Though he would probably catch you with zero effort.

“I-“

“How did you even get here?” he blurted out as he circled the table he had been sitting at, which made you jerk your foot; you wanted to take a step back because of pure self-preservation instinct.

He was a huge guy and he was coming right at you, okay.

Not sure where you took the courage, you subtly pointed at the visitors’ passes on your neck. You wondered if it was another test. Maybe he was just… making sure you weren’t Hydra or something?

_Hydra is gone for decades, you dummy._

_Shut up._

“You-you borrowed my Walkman. I want, uhm, I want it back,” you replied, unsure.

He stopped dead in his track and blinked, stunned when hearing the phrase. He just stood there in the middle of his office, gaping. It was a nice office. Dark wooden furniture, old-fashioned— _heh, old-fashioned._

 _“I borrowed_ -“ he started but never finished and his hand shot up to his hair, plunging in. His mind must have been racing – he kinda looked like his mind was racing. And then it came, the realization; _ding-dong_ , _we have a winner._ “Oh my god, I’m going to kill her. That’s… I’m gonna murder her.”

He turned away from you, possibly hiding any reaction showing on his face. But his tense shoulders said it for him. You were glad his anger – slightly modified to disbelief now – shifted to someone else.

It made you relax just a bit. A bit. Also, the fact that Natasha knew him _so well_ brought a tiny smile on your lips.

“She thought you would say that. But what would the American citizens think about you if you walked around killing your… co-workers?” you teased lightly, mentally slapping yourself right after.

_What am I saying?!_

His head snapped your direction at that. _Yep, that’s right, I said that. Insane, right? I know._

His features softened a fraction then, his eyes losing the initial anger and shock.

“How did she contact you?”

“Gave me a card when she picked you up the other day.”

You held it out for him between your index and middle finger. He snatched it immediately, eagerly reading the lines, eyeing the tiny doodle of his shield.

 _Captain America’s_ shield _._ Natasha sure spelled it out for you and… it was ridiculously easy to believe it. Everything about him fell into place. Steve Rogers. Hero. American _._ American all the way…

 _‘He’s too shy to ask for your number. But I can tell he likes you. Go see Mr. Rogers. He borrowed your Walkman. You want it back.’_ And all of that written on a business card from Y.S.O.P. Enterprise.

It had taken you a while to make up your mind about what you were gonna you next. And in the end… you took a leap of faith. After all, Steve could definitely be considered a decent guy. And you kinda liked him. _Kinda._

The tips of Steve’s ears turned red when he went over what the card read.

“You know who I am,” he murmured, eyes still on the paper.

Well, _duh._ “The doodle is a bit of dead giveaway, yeah.”

“And you still came.”

His gaze found yours, searching. You wondered what he saw. Did he see a fangirl, wanting to have another moment with the national icon… or did he see what you were, a simple college student who met a guy so nice she wanted to see him again?

His own windows to the soul were opened only ajar. You believed he was confused and hesitant to find out the truth. He seemed… pleased to see you indeed, but he was wary of letting it show. Because… it wasn’t so hard to figure it out, was it? Because it made him _vulnerable_.

“Well, I’m actually kinda afraid I’ll get punched in my face like I was a Nazi or at least get escorted on Captain’s orders, but yeah, here I am,” you joked, hoping the nerves weren’t audible in your voice.

His gaze returned to the card.

“I liked that you weren’t worried about that in the café,” he uttered, sighing and tossing the card on his table.

Your breath hitched and you dared to believe you were able to read between the lines.

_I liked that you talked to a normal guy. Not the man flashing stars and stripes._

Indescribable weight you didn’t know was bringing you down until now fell off your shoulders. You managed to charm a genuine smile, happy your suspicion was right.

You shrugged. “Guess that this is me visiting a friend at work then. Hoping I’m not interrupting too much.”

His head snapped to you again, his cerulean eyes ignited by a spark of joy, roaming your face.

“Is that… is that what you want?”

_Nope. I want more. I want flirting, I want snuggling, I want kissing and all the intimate stuff I can get. All in a good time._

You cleared your throat, examining his expression. Why was he so tough to read all of sudden? What did he _want_ to hear? What could you allow yourself to reveal?

“I take what I can get,” you said in the end, causing his eyes widen a fraction.

Did his thoughts ever get off rails just like yours? It was ridiculous to think that, yet… in the café, he almost seemed to be flirting, in his own very gentlemanly and old-school charming way. Or maybe it was just a wishful thinking…

He didn’t reply. He stood few steps from you, quietly observing you as if he was trying to read you as well. The silence stretched, the air slowly being sucked out of the room. The longer his eyes were on you, the harder it was getting to breathe. You would _swear_ that there was something… _more._ You wanted more.

You couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

"So... what is it about the Walkman?” you blurted out. The tension broke, your gaze finally tearing away from him as you looked around his office again. “I mean, I assume it has a meaning beside being a code."

He huffed, relaxing too. "It’s for me personally. For... potential visitors."

You would swear you heard a quiet ‘ _You’re the first one’_ , but you rather didn’t react to it just in case you were imagining things.

"Why this one though?"

When you looked back at the man, he was rolling his eyes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. To be honest, you found it fascinating. Jeans and a shirt (nicely fitting shirt, by the way, all the good parts on display). You half expected him to walk around in his Captain America uniform. After all, Natasha and many other agents seemed to be in their gear.

"I’m pretty sure it was Tony. Stark, I mean,” he continued when he noticed your confusion. Right. He was friends with the billionaire in a flying suit. _Say whaaat?_ “It’s terrible. It reminds me of some god-awful innuendo, it's hinting just how ancient I am, apparently-“ You snorted at that. Walkman? _Ancient?_ In comparison to a man born before the WW II.? “-it _is_ ancient according to him. And lastly, it's a stupid joke, because everyone knows that if I borrowed something, I would give it back as soon as I got the chance and I wouldn’t let the person chase me for that."

“Don’t like loose ends, huh?”

“I don’t like the idea that I’m keeping something for myself what doesn’t belong to me.”

Your heart positively skipped a beat at that. Was it meant to sound so suggestive or were just thinking wishfully again? Because his eyes seemed to ignite with blue flame when they met yours. The similar flame started burning in your belly. _Shit._ This crush of yours was getting worse with each second in his presence.

Trying not to release his gaze despite everything screaming at you to do so, you fiddled with your fingers again and asked the bold question that popped up in the lizard part of your brain. Well, you gave it a try at least.

"So...uhm, assuming...assuming I lent you a hug..."

Steve tilted his head a bit, an incredulous smile slowly spreading his lips.

"You would want it back, huh?" You bit your lip, warmth curling in your chest as you shrugged and a joyful twinkle lighted up his eyes even brighter. _Oh thank god._ You might actually not be alone in this. "Well, I guess it would be rude not to give it back."

You only managed to nod several times before he crossed the distance and carefully enveloped you in his arms, pulling you against his body. You immediately melted, your cheek resting against the material of his shirt as you wrapped your arms around him too. Your hand automatically caressed his back gently, just like in the park; before you could panic because of your own boldness, he responded, not unlike the first time. He squeezed tighter, his chin resting right on the top of your head this time.

You had no clue what this was. You barely knew Steve, but perhaps the way you met, it eased you into this. You were a touchy-feely person to begin with, hugging friends and family as much as you could, but… for some reason, with Steve it felt just as right. You felt… safe and you knew for sure it wasn’t because of his job title. You felt good with Steve. Really, really good.

You inhaled deeply, indulging the unobtrusive cologne he was wearing, mixing with his aftershave. Your fingers crumbled the fabric on his back; he smelled incredibly nice. And his embrace was warm, hiding you from the world, comforting; the way a hug should feel.

You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t have enough yet despite knowing for a fact that he must have been hugging you for more than was socially acceptable for two people who had spent only as much time together as you had.

Thinking of the possibility of him letting go, you clenched your fingers on his shirt. Nope, not happening.

His body went rigid at that, his heart hammering against your cheek and you suddenly knew you screwed up. How did he even register it?

But then his hand caressed the length of your back, the other touching your scalp in a feather-light touch.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispered to your hair and you released the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You were so touched by the care you felt your eyes burn.

What was wrong with you?!

“Are you-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” you hurried, retreating a little to look up at his face despite not wanting to move an inch. His eyes were filled with worry. “I’m fine. It’s just… this feels really nice.”

One corner of his lips rose in a shy lopsided smile, light confusion shadowing his features. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

You chuckled. “I suppose.”

His eyebrows jumped a fraction at that and he looked at something behind your head before returning his gaze to your face.

“She _supposes_ ,” he mimicked silently and you bit your lip. Perhaps you should have phrased it better, but you were so out of your mind to begin with. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around what was happening here. This wasn’t how things worked; normally, that was. “And what if… could we have another cup of coffee? Or a dinner maybe?”

You grinned at the burst of warm fuzzies in your chest. You were here, standing in Steve’s arms and there he was, traces of doubt on his face, as if he worried you might say no. Also… he was asking you out. Steve was _asking you out_.

Screw it. You were in the arms of a man who napped in ice for seventy years; there was nothing _normal_ about that and you just decided you were perfectly fine with it.

This time, you were very much aware of what you were saying, cheeky smile on your lips.

 “I suppose.”

 _“You—_ okay. I guess I have to take what I can get,” he threw right back at you, reminding you of _your_ fears when you had come in his office.

“Sounds fair.”

Were you the only one who noticed you were still hugging? Judging by the twinkle in his eyes when he was looking down at you, the answer was no. He was as aware of your proximity as you were. And he _liked it._ Your gaze fell on his lips involuntarily, wondering what it would feel like to be even closer.

Scolding yourself for wanting things happen too fast, you looked back up – was it just your imagination or did the black of his pupils bit off some of the blue of his irises when he noticed your line of sight? Because his eyes were now definitely on your lips as well.

When did it get so hot in here?

You swallowed awkwardly loudly, licking your lips. Steve’s tongue mirrored the action on his own, effectively sending you to a cardiac arrest.

"Hey, S-steve...?" you breathed out, your lungs unexplainably useless.  Was it how playing Russian roulette felt? Playing with fire?

"Mm? What is it, doll?"

The casual use of endearment flushed your cheeks pink, but also plucked up your courage to ask what were you about to ask. He lowered his head, what you craved only inches away now.

_Jeez, where did all the oxygen go?_

"Can I borrow a kiss?"

His lips parted, releasing a soft exhale tickling your own. His reply was all you ever wanted to hear.

_“Only if you give it back.”_

And then… then you had no way of answering with words, because your lips were too busy.

You had to make sure to return what he lent you. And after, you would borrow it again and give it back, and again… until you forgot which it was, borrowing or giving back.

 _Not that it matters,_ you thought blissfully, indulging the taste of his mouth and letting all rational thoughts slip from your mind. Funny, how human mind worked, wasn’t it? You decided that it was working the best when it wasn’t working at all and rather let the heart take the wheel instead.

Steve agreed…

…you supposed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this way fun. I have cavities. Then again, maybe the amount of sweets I’m eating is to blame. Heh.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed :)) Those kinda keep me going.

**Author's Note:**

> Another meet-cute. Oops. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ But hey, I got The Devil on Our Backs in motion, right? I deserve a break :D (still working on it when I can ;) )


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